


i hear stars in your music

by echo_of_words



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Background Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Background Deceit Sanders, Background Dr. Emile Picani, Background Sleep | Remy Sanders, Band Competiton, Demiboy Dr. Emile Picani, Emo Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Emo Morality | Patton Sanders, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Genderfluid Sleep | Remy Sanders, M/M, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Good Friend, Punk Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Punk Deceit Sanders, Punk Logic | Logan Sanders, Punk Sleep | Remy Sanders, i think i can tag it as that at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echo_of_words/pseuds/echo_of_words
Summary: Virgil, Patton and Emile are in an emo band called Purple Specter together - Virgil sings and writes songs, Patton plays the guitar, and Emile plays the drums. However, the college-wide band contest is coming up, and they still need one more song. Virgil's having trouble with the lyrics, though, and he only gets put under more pressure when they meet a punk band called Capitol Spirit, because its four members Logan, Roman, Dee and Remy are all very good musicians too, and they're going to participate in the competition too.Virgil's luck writing lyrics changes, however, when he runs into Logan at a nearby coffee shop, because soon, he finds he might have gotten more attached than he ever planned.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 15
Kudos: 102
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	i hear stars in your music

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dandyseedlings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandyseedlings/gifts).



> Hey Airam! Happy holidays! I wrote a bunch of it at school, and then kinda wrote all the rest in one go so idk-- I hope you enjoy it anyway!! Also thank you for the prompt for a music focused AU - I hadn't really thought about writing one before, but this was hella fun think about so!! thank you!!
> 
>  **Warnings:** Food

Virgil twirls the pencil around in his fingers, trying to think of a fitting lyric. He’s nearly finished writing this new song for his band, Purple Specter, but there’s still something missing. A certain something that ties the song together and gives the lyrics meaning.

“Hey, Virge, you coming?” Patton calls, popping his head into Virgil’s room. “We’re gonna be late!”

“Coming.” Virgil throws the notebook and pencil back into the bag, slinging it over his shoulder and following Patton out of the door.

“You done with that song yet?” he asks, brushing his fringe out of his eyes as the two of them leave the dorm and walk down the stairs of the building.

“No,” Virgil mutters as they exit the building. “No, I haven’t figured it out yet. I’m close, though.”

“That’s good.” Silence falls between them as they walk across campus to the band practice studio. It’s an unusual thing to have on school grounds, but since the bi-annual band competitions started taking place, the demand for a studio’s been high, so they had it built and it’s being used almost daily.

“V! Pat!” Emile greets them when they arrive at the door.

“Hey, Em. How’s that beat for  _ Winter Fires _ coming along?” Virgil asks.

“Eh, not great. I’ve been trying to work on it more, but Toby keeps complaining about the noise, so I’ve been keeping it down recently.”

“Oh.” Virgil frowns. “Is he still sick, then?”

“Yeah,” Emile sighs. “Really, I’ve been telling him to just see a doctor, but he just won’t listen. He keeps insisting he’s fine.”

“He doesn’t _ sound _ fine if he’s been sick for the past two weeks,” Patton interjects, an edge of worry to his voice.

“Eh. I’ll force him to go to a doctor if this goes on any longer. For now, though, let’s focus on practice!”

“Yeah, you’re right, let’s.” Virgil pushes the door of the building open and the two of them follow him down the hallway.

Virgil can hear muffled music echoing down the corridor as they walk along.

“I don’t recognise that style of music, do you?” Patton asks, brow furrowed.

“No…” Emile says, a thoughtful expression on their face. “Unless Sunflower Sings decided to go in a  _ very _ different direction. But it’s probably someone else.”

Sure enough, when they reach the two doors that lead to the practice rooms, Virgil spots a group of four people through the small plexiglass window in the door. All four of them are clearly dressed in punk style, with all of them having at least one piercing or tattoo Virgil can see, and they all seem to be completely immersed in the music they’re playing. The heavy door, built to insulate sound, is muffling most of their playing, but from what Virgil can hear, he has to admit it doesn’t sound  _ bad _ .

He watches as the singer grabs the microphone from its stand and begins to pace around the “stage” as they sing. The guitar and bass players strum their instruments more passionately, and the person at the drum set is moving their hands so quickly the sticks are just a blur.

Virgil’s gaze lingers on the drummer, mesmerized by the way their hands are flying over the instrument. There’s a small tattoo on the back of their hand, but Virgil can’t discern what it is.

The song reaches a climax, and before he knows it, it’s over.

“Virge? You coming?” Emile asks.

“Yeah, I--”

The bass player looks over at the door and obviously spots Virgil peeking at the door. Virgil ducks away from the window at once, but it’s too late. They walk across to the door, guitar still hanging on its strap around their shoulder.

They open the door. “D’you need anything?”

“Wha-- oh, no, I just, uh--”

“Your guys’ music is really good!” Patton interrupts Virgil’s stuttering, smiling.

“Oh, thanks.” They rub the back of their neck awkwardly. “We’re gonna enter the competition next month.”

“Oh, so are we!” Patton says excitedly. “We’re gonna win, definitely!”

“Nah, that’s us. Sorry, gurl,” they reply, smirking. “You can get second place.”

“Hey, what’s going on over there, Rem?” calls a voice inside the room.

“Ro, these emo guys think they can beat us in the competition!” the person - Rem, apparently - calls over their shoulder.

“What’s wrong with being emo?” Virgil demands.

Someone - Ro, presumably - shows up behind Rem. “Oh, nothing. Except for the fact that punk music is a lot better than whatever MCR used to do.”

“MCR are great!” Emile protests. “But we can agree to disagree.”

“...I guess,” Ro mutters. “What’s your band called, then, if you’re so great?”

“Purple Specter,” Virgil tells them. “You’d better remember that name, because we’re definitely gonna beat you guys at the competition.”

“Well, I think you should remember the name Capitol Spirit,” a new voice says from behind Ro and Rem.

Virgil cranes his neck to see around them and spots the drummer of the other band.

“Yeah, as the losers,” Virgil says before he can stop himself, and then immediately regrets it.  _ Why did I say that? That was so rude why did I-- _

“We’ll see about that,” Rem says coolly. “But while you’re at it, remember our names, too. I’m Remy - she/her, currently, but it tends to fluctuate -, this oaf here is Roman” - “Hey!” - “and that nerd is Logan. He/him for both of them. And that--,” they gesture at the person who’s just shoved themself to the front to be seen, as they’re several inches shorter than everyone else, coming up even shorter than Patton, “is Dee. They/them.”

“I’m Patton!” Patton says, beaming. “And this is Virgil and Emile! He/him for all of us, and they/them for Emile too. May the best band win!”

The drummer - Logan - raises his hand to adjust his glasses, and as he does, Virgil catches sight of the tattoo on his hand. It’s a small cluster of what seems to be raspberries.

“Yeah, well. Have fun practicing to lose.” Remy turns around and flounces back inside. Roman and Logan follow her, and Dee closes the door before going back to their bass as well.

The three of them go practice, and afterwards go back to their dorms. But even when Virgil’s lying in bed at night, staring at the dark ceiling, he can’t seem to get the image of three red berries out of his head.

* * *

The next day, Virgil’s back at the figurative drawing board, staring at a new blank page of his notebook.

There’s a knock at his door. “Kiddo, you alright in there?”

“Yeah,” Virgil calls and rolls over onto his stomach. “Not having any luck though.”

“Aw, that’s a pity. You wanna come bake these cookies with me? I’m making chocolate chip!”

“...Sure.” He  _ could _ use a break, after all.

He throws the pen down onto the bed and follows Patton out of the door into their small dorm kitchen, where Patton’s already set out the ingredients and materials they need. He walks over to the oven and turns two of the knobs to start preheating it.

“So! Do you remember the recipe?” Patton prompts brightly.

“Not exactly,” Virgil admits, and tentatively adds: “But I think the flour comes first? And then egg?”

“Yep!” Patton beams at him. “I’ll crack the eggs and you measure the flour, alright?”

They set about making the dough, Patton helping Virgil along with the ingredients while they settle into comfortable banter.

“So, what did you think of that band yesterday?” Patton asks as he’s mixing the ingredients for the dough together, Virgil sitting on the countertop that isn’t covered in flour. Patton used to reprimand him about it, but at this point he knows he can’t stop Virgil’s tendency to sit everywhere but on chairs. “Capitol Spirit, I mean?”

“I...wasn’t sure what to think of them,” Virgil admits. “They  _ are _ good. And that drummer was amazing. Not even Emile can move his hands that quickly.”

“Ooh, did he catch your eye?” Patton teases.

“No!” Virgil feels his ears getting hot. “No, he didn’t, I was just admiring his skills!”

“Uh- _ huh _ ,” Patton says, grinning. “Well, I thought they were good too, but I still think we can beat them. We have the power of MCR and good fashion on our side!”

“...I can’t tell if that was a vine reference or if you actually think that’ll help us.”

“Both!” Patton’s grin gets wider. “The music is good, but I thought you’d like the joke, too!”

Virgil sighs. “Not that I don’t enjoy vine references, but you’re such a  _ dad  _ it’s weird hearing them from you.”

“Huh. Okay.” Patton’s silent for a moment as he continues to mix the dough before setting it aside. “So, Virgil, now we  _ yeet _ the chocolate chips in--”

Virgil groans and buries his face in his hands as the sound of Patton’s laughter rings in his ears.

“So, anyway,” Patton continues when he’s calmed down. “I think we have a good chance of winning the competition if we practice hard enough.”

“Yeah, Virgil agrees. “Yeah, we do.”

* * *

Over the next week, they meet up with Emile to practice every day they have time. There’s some days they can’t - they’re all in college, after all, so classes get in the way sometimes - but they do their best, and more often than not, Virgil finds himself humming the tune Patton composed for  _ Winter Fires  _ when he’s walking back to their dorm after one of his classes.

Almost every time they get to the practice studio, Capitol Spirit are there too. And Virgil has to admit - they’re getting better. Purple Specter’s practice is helping them improve too, of course. But Virgil still hasn’t made any progress on the third song they need for the competition. They’ve been practicing  _ Teenagers _ by MCR as a backup song so they won’t be left with only two songs on the day of the competition, but they’ve all agreed they’d prefer to perform three original songs.

On Saturday morning, Patton knocks on Virgil’s door and basically barges inside to drag him out of the dorm, ignoring Virgil’s insistence that he’s  _ fine  _ and the fact that he skipped dinner last night was merely because he wasn’t hungry and had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’s focusing so hard on writing this song he’s forgetting to take care of himself.

“Come on, we’ll go to that little coffee shop Thomas was talking about the other day! He said one of his friends works there, so he’s been there often enough to try all the cakes and he says they’re all really good, but we should definitely try the salted caramel brownies, and--”

“Okay, geez, fine,  _ dad _ , I’ll come,” Virgil interrupts. “But I’m bringing my notebook with me.”

“...Alright, but I’m making sure you at least eat something too,” Patton concedes.

“I will, I will, just stop  _ pestering  _ me--”

“I’m just making sure you take care of yourself!”

Virgil sighs. “I will.”

“Good!” Patton smiles. “Then get your shoes on, we’re off to visit  _ Latte Love _ !”

“Sounds like a place you’d go for a date,” Virgil mutters.

“It’s  _ not _ , it’s a normal coffee shop! At least, unless Thomas was trying to set us up or something. I don’t see why he would though, I mean--”

“Pat, I was _ joking _ .”

“Imagine if you did meet your soulmate there, though! It’d be just like one of those fanfiction clichés. I’d love that, actually. Maybe it’s called that because you can meet your one true love there?”

Virgil wraps a scarf around his face to hide the small smile that appears on his face as Patton continues to chatter on about soulmates and love and coffee and fanfiction. It’s moments like these that remind Virgil why Patton is probably his favourite human in existence.

* * *

When they arrive at the coffee shop, it’s smaller than Virgil expected it to be. There’s a forest green plastic sign above the door, with swirly pink writing that says  _ Latte Love _ .

“In we go, then,” Patton says with a smile, grabbing Virgil’s arm and dragging him inside. A blast of warm air greets them, scented with coffee and cake, and a little bell tinkles as the door falls closed behind them.

“Patton! Virgil!” an excited voice calls and before Virgil can turn to see who it belongs to, a person slams into Patton, nearly knocking him over. Patton untangles himself and Virgil recognises the person. “Hey, Thomas.”

“Hi!” Thomas says excitedly. “How come you guys are here?”

“I wanted to get Virgil out of the house,” Patton explains. “And you said this place was good, so I thought we’d stop by!”

As Patton and Thomas continue to talk to each other, Virgil looks around the room, taking in the rest of the coffee shop. There’s a few tables scattered around the room, each surrounded by three to four spindly-looking chairs with green seat cushions. There’s also several booths along the walls, with dark green leather-looking seats and the odd pink cushion dotted about.

His gaze falls on a person sitting at one of the booths and he narrows his eyes.  _ Isn’t that…? _

_ It is. _ Logan from Capitol Spirit is sitting right in this coffee shop, typing away at something on the laptop that’s propped up in front of him.

_ What are the chances?  _ Virgil’s pulled out of his thoughts by Patton tapping him on the shoulder. “Hey, what’s got you so distra-- oh.  _ Oh. _ ” He breaks off, smirking. “All right. Come on, Thomas, let’s go sit down.”

Virgil hurries after them as they make their way towards one of the tables near the booth where Logan is sitting. He knows Patton chose this spot on purpose and he’s not sure whether to be annoyed or grateful. For now, though, he just pulls out a chair and sits down, noticing - again with a flare of emotion that he can’t quite determine as annoyance or thankfulness - that Patton’s deliberately chosen a table with three chairs and left the one that’s facing Logan free for Virgil to sit on.

The next few minutes go relatively uneventful, with Patton going to pick up coffee for all three of them at the counter - he gets something that probably has way too much sugar and vanilla syrup for himself, a standard black coffee for Virgil, and Thomas gets...something involving caffeine. Virgil doesn’t really pay much attention to what he says to Patton when asked for his order, because he’s too busy watching Logan out of the corner of his eye and trying not to be obvious in the way he’s glancing towards him every couple of seconds. He’s not even sure what his fascination with Logan stems from - he’s seen him plenty of times before, and he doesn’t look that much different from the other members of Capitol Spirit in ways of piercings or tattoos, so that can’t be what it is either.

He takes a sip from his coffee and almost chokes on the still-too-hot liquid.

“Virge? You okay?” Patton asks.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” he mutters distractedly. “Yeah, definitely.”

Patton raises an eyebrow.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Virgil insists. “I’m just…”

“Distracted?” Patton suggests, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Shut up,” Virgil mutters. “I just…”

“Listen, if he’s that interesting, you might as well go talk to him, right?”

“No, I-- that’s okay, I don’t need to--”

“Go on, say something to him!” Patton urges. “You’ll never get to know him if you just sit here and stare at him, right?”

“Oh-- uh-- yeah. Yeah, I guess.” Virgil sighs and reluctantly gets to his feet. He walks the few paces over to Logan’s booth, then slightly panics internally when he realises he has no idea what to say. “Uh-- hi,” he manages to get out. “Are you-- uh-- we’ve met before? At band practice?”

Logan looks up from his laptop. “Ah, yes. Your name is Virgil, I believe? From Purple Specter?”

Virgil nods awkwardly. “And you’re Logan. Capitol Specter. That’s your band. Yeah.” God, could he be any more awkward right now?

He frantically casts around for something to say and his gaze lands on Logan’s NASA shirt. “Uh, space! Do you like space? I like space! Mercury is my favourite comet!”

Logan stares at him for a moment, then seems to regain his composure. “Mercury is a planet, Virgil. Not a comet. While both are celestial bodies orbiting around the sun, planets are massive enough to assume a hydrostatic equilibrium - that is, a round shape - and have cleared the neighbourhood around their orbit, while comets are often recognised by their characteristic tail of gaseous materials that have been boiled off by the sun’s heat. Some of them orbit around the sun in elliptical paths, while others follow the path of a hyperbole, entering the solar system once to then leave forever. There are many differences between planets and comets, and Mercury is certainly not a comet.”

Virgil blinks at him. “I, uh, knew that.”

“Obviously you did not,” Logan says dismissively.

“How do you know all that? You must be really good at astrolo-- I mean, astronomy.”

“I am majoring in astronomy.”

“Wow, that’s really cool! Do you, uh, have any more space facts? That was really interesting.” Virgil’s grasping at strings, desperate to keep the conversation going, because while he is embarrassed about his misstep about Mercury, he’s managed to start Logan off talking about a fascinating subject that he’s clearly interested in too, so that must be good.

“Of course I do. Have a seat,” Logan instructs. Virgil sits, and the conversation they proceed to have is one of the most interesting he’s had in ages, and Virgil’s disappointed to have to leave when Patton comes up to him to say that they’re leaving because they have another band practice session scheduled for later that day.

“Talk again sometime?” Virgil asks tentatively.

“We’ll see.”

* * *

Over the course of the next few weeks, they do indeed talk again - quite a few times, in fact. Virgil seems to be frequenting the coffee shop a lot more often than he would usually ever leave the house - a feat Patton is quick to point out, but not ask about; he just smiles knowingly every time Virgil announces he’s going to  _ Latte Love  _ to work on the song. That’s another thing - ever since he’s started meeting up with Logan for their chats at the coffee shop and building their slowly blossoming friendship, his productivity in writing lyrics has skyrocketed. For the first time in forever, he’s feeling that tingle of inspiration he hasn’t had since the early days of Purple Specter - the push to create, to let the lyrics flow freely, to let his hand move on its own to write whatever his brain feels like writing. It sounds like a stupid cliché when he thinks about it, but it’s  _ true _ , so he just tries not to think about it too much and instead works on the song until finally, one day at  _ Latte Love _ , while listening to Logan ramble about space again, he’s finally able to throw the pen down and exclaim, “ _ Yes!  _ I’m done!”

“Oh, with that song you’ve been writing for the past few weeks?” Logan asks, leaning across the table to look at Virgil’s notebook.

“Yeah! Now I just need to give it to Patton and Emile so they can develop the melody and beat and--” He breaks off. “Well, nevermind. But still, we can perform this at the competition!”

“Do you feel prepared for the competition?” Logan asks. “Prepared enough to win, I mean?”

“Well, we’ve still gotta work out the details of this song, but yeah, I definitely think it’s possible for us to take the top spot,” Virgil says casually. “What about you guys?”

“I believe we are ready,” Logan says, nodding. “Although Roman insists on almost daily practice - frankly, it’s getting kind of annoying. It’s taking a lot of my essay-writing time.”

“Astronomy?” Virgil asks.

“Yes. I have been assigned the task to write an essay about the components of Mars’s atmosphere. You see…”

Virgil allows himself a small smile as he listens to Logan launch into another speech about his favourite subject, which is quickly becoming one of Virgil’s main interests too as he keeps on learning more and more interesting facts from Logan.

Briefly, he wonders whether allowing himself to get this close to Logan was a mistake, but he quickly pushes that thought out of his mind.

* * *

Finally, it’s the day of the competition. The new song is set and ready to go, and they’re sitting backstage with several other bands who’ll be up soon. Patton and Emile are doing their best to assure Virgil it’ll be fine, but he’s still incredibly nervous about playing in front of the judges, who have a notorious reputation for being strict.

“It’ll be  _ fine _ ,” Patton insists. “We’re gonna go up there and play, and even if we don’t win, at least we tried, right?”

“I’m gonna mess up,” Virgil mutters, only half listening to him. “I’m gonna mess up, I know I am, and it’ll all be my fault that we--”

“Virgil?” a now-familiar voice asks. “Are you alright?”

He looks up. Logan is standing there, a concerned expression on his face.

“I-- yeah? No? I just… I’m nervous.”

“Would you like to take a short walk with me?”

“Uh… sure?” Unsure what Logan’s objective is, but not hesitant to leave the stuffy buzzing room either, he gets to his feet. “I’ll be back,” he tells Patton and Emile. Emile shrugs and nods, and Patton gives him an exaggerated wink. Virgil rolls his eyes and turns to follow Logan out of the room, where, instead of walking, they stop and stand there. Logan leans against the wall with peeling paint.

“Are you alright, Virgil?” he asks again.

“I dunno,” Virgil admits. “I’m just nervous about… a lot of things. Mostly the concert, but like… other stuff too.” As he speaks, he’s got one hand buried in his hoodie pocket, messing with his fidget cube.

Logan’s silent for a moment. Then he asks, a hesitant tone in his voice: “Do you wish to… speak about the… other things that are bothering you?”

“I… I don’t know,” Virgil admits. “I guess? But like… It’s hard putting it into words, y’know?”

“I am not entirely sure if I know, but I believe I have a relatively good idea of what you are referring to.”

They stand there in silence for what seems like ages, but it probably only a few seconds. Then it’s interrupted by a call from inside the room. “Hey, Lo, it’s our turn!”

“I apologise, Virgil, I need to go perform.” Logan turns to go back inside, but before Virgil can stop himself, the question he’s been wanting to ask Logan ever since they first met tumbles out of his mouth.

“What’s that tattoo on your hand?”

Logan slowly turns back around. “Why do you ask?”

“I-- uh-- I dunno, I just-- I was wondering-- I’m sorry that wasn’t an appropriate question to ask, just forget I ever asked--” Virgil stammers, blood rushing to his face as he curses himself for opening his stupid mouth.

Virgil doesn’t know what he was expecting Logan to do, but he certainly wasn’t expecting him to give him a soft smile and say: “They’re loganberries. My family used to call me Loganberry when I was younger, and I wanted something to commemorate that.”

“Lo, come  _ on! _ ” the voice from inside yells. Logan jumps, as if he’d forgotten he was supposed to be performing on stage. “I apologise, Virgil. I will speak to you later.” And just like that, he’s gone, leaving Virgil standing there, frozen, not sure whether to believe that what just happened was real.

* * *

Virgil doesn’t listen to Capitol Spirit play, because he's still too in awe of what happened in the hallway, but Purple Specter are on right after them, so he has to take a deep breath and gather his composure so he’s ready to sing as the three of them walk onto the stage.

“Hey,” he says into the microphone when Patton and Emile are done setting up their instruments, hoping he doesn’t sound  _ too _ nervous. “We’re, uh, Purple Specter, and our first song is called  _ Broken Memories _ .”

The judges are sitting at a table in a row in front of the stage. The rest of the auditorium is filled with members of the other bands who have already performed or are still waiting their turn. Virgil takes a deep breath and tries not to focus on them too much as Emile and Patton start to play and he waits for his cue, then starts to sing.

Surprisingly, his voice doesn’t shake, and he doesn’t forget any of the lyrics. Even the judges don’t look  _ too _ apprehensive as the song progresses. In fact, he could swear the one on the very left is even nodding their head along to the beat.

They finish  _ Broken Memories _ , and he glances over his shoulder at Patton and Emile. Patton’s smiling, and Emile looks a little stressed out, but they give him a supportive thumbs-up as well.

“Alright. This next one’s called  _ Winter Fires _ .”

This song goes relatively flawlessly too, with Virgil only messing up one lyric that he hopes nobody but his bandmates notices.

_ And now for the last one.  _ Virgil takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

“This one’s called  _ Honey, the Stars are Bright _ .”

Virgil’s never quite understood the phrase "deer in headlights" quite so much as he does now, because while almost all eyes in the auditorium were on him before, now that feeling has been amplified by a thousand times. He isn’t even sure why. Maybe it’s the fact that this song was written so hastily? Or maybe it’s because this song is so much more emotionally laden than the other songs he’s written before?

Either way, this song feels different to everything else they’ve played before. The softer-than-usual melody from Patton’s guitar starts up and the beat from Emile’s drums sets in too. Virgil counts the beats -  _ one, two, three, four  _ \- and launches into the lyrics.

For some reason, while he’s singing, he can’t seem to keep his eyes fixed on the point he’s been looking at the whole time. Until now, he was staring at the wall at the back of the auditorium, but now, he has the urge to look somewhere else, and he lets his eyes drift across the audience until his gaze finds Logan, and he keeps it locked there - it feels like the right thing to do.

He sings the lyrics from his heart, and as he’s singing, he realises what the song is really about. At the time of writing it, he wasn’t concentrating on the meaning of the lyrics too much, and even while practicing the song, it never really came to his mind, but now that he’s gazing at Logan while singing, he realises the song is about love. It’s about meeting someone and considering them an enemy, but then becoming friends with them before tumbling way too fast, falling head over heels in love. It’s about the endless possibilities, just as many as the stars in the sky, and how each of them is bright as the next. It’s about loving someone without realising you love them yet. And as he realises all these things, he’s still staring at Logan, transfixed, and he sees the reflection of the light from the stage in Logan’s glasses, and he knows, somewhere, in the back of his mind, that he’s singing  _ to _ him,  _ about _ him,  _ because  _ of him.

But he can’t think about all those feelings now, because he has to concentrate on remembering the lyrics, so he just puts all his heart into singing them, and when the song finally reaches its end, he feels like he’s floating.

There’s silence for a few moments, then applause. Virgil still can’t believe half of the things he’s just realised, and everything’s hazy as the judges say something to them, then motion for them to leave.

“Virgil, that performance was  _ amazing! _ ” Patton’s beaming at him as they walk off the stage and enter the backstage waiting room. “I--” he starts, but he’s interrupted by a voice from behind Virgil.

“Can we talk?”

Virgil turns around to see, of course, Logan.

“...Yeah, we should, shouldn’t we?”

* * *

They go outside, and stand in silence for several seconds.

“Um,” says Virgil.

“Forgive me if I am completely wrong,” Logan begins. “But am I correct in assuming that last song was about… well, me?”

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” Virgil admits. “I didn’t properly realise it until now, though. I guess the lyrics just clicked into place when I looked at you while I was singing them.”

Silence, for a moment. Virgil doesn’t dare look up at Logan for a few seconds, but when he does, the expression on his face is unreadable.

“I… have never been good at defining emotions,” Logan starts, eventually. “I have mostly relied on the people around me to explain my feelings to them and let them pinpoint what exact emotion I was feeling. But for some reason, ever since we began talking to each other, I wasn’t able to tell anybody about my feelings. There was no logical reason for me not to say anything; after all, it was just another emotion I needed to figure out; but I couldn’t do it. For some reason, I was simply unable to get the words out. Of course, it was in no way physically impossible - I was perfectly capable of speaking - but when I tried to speak to Roman about it, the words wouldn’t come.”

Virgil opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say, so he closes it again.

Logan continues. “Since I couldn’t speak to Roman, I tried figuring the feeling out by myself, but I have so far been unsuccessful. However, I… I believe that song… that experience may have helped me.”

Virgil’s hardly daring to breathe.  _ This is too good to be true. Here comes the catch...right? _

“So, Virgil… I believe that what I may be feeling is romantic attraction.”

“I-- I think I have a crush on you too,” Virgil blurts out. “I-- I mean-- I--”

“Virgil.” Logan’s voice is firm, and it makes Virgil shut up abruptly. “I believe that song was more than enough to show me how you feel.”

Silence. Then Virgil musters all his courage and asks, in a tiny voice: “Can I kiss you?”

Without a word, Logan nods, and before he can stop himself, Virgil’s surging forward to throw his arms around Logan and almost clumsily press their lips together.

It’s exhilarating, the tingling feeling that starts in his brain and turns into what can almost be compared to the sound of static in his ears. Logan’s got one of his hands on Virgil’s back and he’s bringing the other up to the back of his neck, pressing them closer together to deepen the kiss, and somewhere in the back of his mind Virgil wonders why Logan is such a good kisser because  _ holy shit _ , and then he moves his own hand up to tangle it in Logan’s hair and he feels Logan’s hand jerk on his back and all he wants to do is keep doing this forever, but eventually the need for air makes him break away.

“That was… incredible,” Logan says after a few seconds of silence.

“Yeah,” Virgil says quietly. “Yeah, it was.”

Another pause.

“Can we do it again?”


End file.
